Happenstance
by ByrdIsTheWord
Summary: When Greg Lestrade dropped by the bakery to pick up a cake for his daughter's birthday, he never expected to bump into a high-ranking official of the British government. Nor did he expect to spill that man's sweets. Or, for that matter, to fall for him.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey, everyone! This is going to be a Mystrade fic that could get a little smutty later, but, for right now, it's just an explanation of how they met and how their love began. I'm coauthoring this fic with the ever-awesome dapperasf (dot) tumblr (dot) com, so I'll indicate Dapper when she is writing and Byrd when it's me. Enjoy!**

**Dapper:**

Gregory Lestrade possessed many skills; baking was not one of them. Anne was a brilliant baker; however, it wasn't really acceptable to call up your ex-wife and ask her to bake a cake, even if it was for her daughter's birthday. Oh, well. There were people who were paid to do that sort of thing, and that is mostly the reason Lestrade was late for work Tuesday morning. He had to stop by that little shop on the corner and place an order for a cake his youngest daughter's birthday.

. . .

**Byrd:**

But it wasn't really the cake order that made him so late to work. He didn't have to pick out anything at the store; he had pre-written the order before he left his home. What made Lestrade late to New Scotland Yard was a tall, handsome man who had just picked up his own delivery from the bakery.

"Oh no, I am so sorry, here let me help you," Lestrade was mortified as he bent down to pick up the box of cookies and sweets that he had knocked out of the other man's hands. He quickly bent down, scooping the mini cakes and other sweets back into the box, flushing from his complete lack of coordination. He grabbed the box and rose up on wobbly knees, noticing just how important looking the other man was. The poor soul was rubbing his temples in distress. The man let out a sigh and then ran a hand through his dark black hair. "Let me buy you another one, please."

"No, no," the other man put his hand out, catching Gregory by the shoulder, wincing, as if it were too much for him to even touch this other man. "Don't worry about it," the man let out another sigh.

_Geez, he is really upset that I knocked over his cakes. I wish he would let me by him some new sweets. _Greg voiced his thoughts aloud, imploring the other man, "Please, I'll buy you double what you had before, it was all my fault."

The other man slowly opened his eyes, studying Lestrade intently. "Fine," he eventually let out. "Here," the man pulled out a pen and notepad from beneath his suit jacket, turning toward the counter. The man proceeded to scribble something down, rip the sheet out of the mini notebook, then hand the sheet of paper to Lestrade. "Deliver what ever you purchase to this address in approximately thirty minutes. Ask for," the man, paused, cocking his head and thinking for a minute, "Ahh, yes, ask for Anthea. Well, then, I must be off."

"Wait, I-" but the mysterious man had all ready grabbed an umbrella by the front of the bakery and popped out the door. Greg ran outside, covering his head from the oncoming rain, yelling "hey, wait!" as the other man slid into a limo that quickly zoomed off.

Greg harrumphed and slowly trudged back indoors. This was not exactly what he had planned for by being a nice person. He definitely got the short end of the bargain, he decided. he sighed, then opened the white box to examine its contents. _Two cream puffs. Five mini vanilla cakes, two eclairs, and six mini chocolate cakes. Geez, what kind of party is this chap throwing?_ He sighed, doing the math in his head. _That means I now have to buy four cream puffs, ten mini vanilla cakes, four eclairs, and twelve mini chocolate cakes. Well, that man might not have heard you saying you would double his order. _

But Greg glanced down at the now-soggy box of ruined treats and he knew that, whoever he was, this man was not someone to be displeased in the dessert department. Greg shook his head, all ready feeling nowhere near motivated enough to start the day, and shuffled toward the counter. After waving and whistling a few times, he finally got one of the waitress's attention.

"Yeah?" she smacked her gum, cocking a brow at him, seeing he all ready had one of the bakery's boxes, probably wondering what more he could possibly want to buy.

"Hi, I'd like to buy four cream puffs, ten mini vanilla cakes, two eclairs, and six mini chocolate cakes. Oh, and I'd also like to make a cake order.

The girl stared at him, indifferent.

"The regular-sized cake," he laughed a bit, trying to add some levity to the situation, but he just turned his laugh into a cough, then pulled his own notebook out from his pocket.

"The regular sized cake is actually a medium sized cake, really. I need it to be able to feed thirty people. I want it to have purple trim icing and blue icing on the, uh, rest of the cake?" he asked more than stated. Anne, usually unhelpful and distant, had actually bothered to email him directions for ordering the cake. Of course she couldn't be bothered to actually pick the bloody thing up, but, hey, something is better than nothing. He sighed, looking up at the still smacking young cashier, wondering if she had absorbed anything he had just said. "How much will that be, do you think?"

She rolled her eyes, then typed a few numbers onto a screen. "Your cake is going to be about seventy pounds."

His eyes bulged, his mind convincing himself more and more by the second that he should just make this cake himself and be done with it, what with a price like that. He sighed, knowing his cake would come out horrendous, if it didn't burn his house down first.

He hummed to himself, then finally said, "Okay, and how about the other sweets?"

The lady spent a good two minutes punching in numbers and scanning the screen in front of her. "That total comes to forty pounds."

Greg again dropped the white box, but it luckily fell on the counter this time. Unluckily, though, it slid onto his shirt from the counter on the open end of the box, and thus had cakes fall through and get icing all over his shirt.

Unfazed, the cashier continued, "so your grand total is one hundred and ten pounds. Cash or credit?" She held her hand out, just waiting for Lestrade to hurry up and pay her, then leave her to her own miserable existence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Dapper: **

With an earth-shaking sigh, Greg thumbed a card out of his battered wallet and handed it to the clerk. "Credit," he mumbled.

She ran the card and set it down on one more white box, which sshhhed along the counter as she slid it towards him."Here are your assorted pastries, sir, and your cake will be ready for pick up in 6 hours. Have a nice day," she droned, in the manner of one who obviously couldn't care less what sort of day you had as long as you had it somewhere else.

Mycroft Holmes possessed many skills; resisting sweets was not one of them. He was a master of self-control and poise in every other aspect of his life, and although he didn't look it, he could survive without sleep or nourishment at _least_ as long as his younger brother.

But, as soon as a single sweet entered the picture, it wouldn't last long within Mycroft's reach. Running the British government with one hand tied behind his back (once, literally) can be stressful work, and the elder Mr. Holmes discovered that nothing could calm his nerves like a fairy cake or a chocolate eclair between meetings.

With the Korean elections looming closer each day, Mycroft had Anthea call in an order to the shop down the road. He intended to pick it up on his morning stroll, and then enjoy them that afternoon before the ambassadors' dinner, but some unforeseen circumstances in the form of a silver haired gentleman named Gregory Lestrade very much changed his plans.


	3. Chapter 3

**SByrdisTheWord:**

_ Oh, __**heavens**__,_ Mycroft thought to himself as the man bumped into him as he was on his way out of the bakery.

"Oh no, I am so sorry, here, let me help you," the other man implored him.

He closed his eyes, trying not to roll them as the other man bent down to pick up his spilled sweets. He rubbed his temples. _I knew I should have just sent Anthea for them. If only I could go without my sweets for that long,_ he sighed.

"No, no," he winced as he caught the other man by the shoulder. "Don't worry about it," he felt a raging headache coming on. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

After a minute, the guilt-stricken man begged him, "Please, I'll buy you double what you had before, it was all my fault."

Mycroft slowly opened his eyes. "Here," he pulled out a pen and notepad from beneath his suit jacket, turning toward the counter. He scribble an address down, then ripped the sheet out of the pad, then hand the sheet to the other man. "Deliver what ever you purchase to this address in approximately thirty minutes. Ask for," he paused, cocking his head and thinking for a minute, "Ahh, yes, ask for Anthea. Well, then, I must be off." He grabbed his umbrella then sped out the door as the other man looked over the paper.

He could hear a faint "wait" come from the other man as he slid into his limo. _I really need to install a bakery in my office. Or at least buy some sort of Easy Bake oven. _He closed his eyes and tapped his umbrella on the carpet of the limo, the rhythm eventually lulling him to sleep.

. . .

Mycroft tapped his pen to his desk, sighing as he remembered the day's events. He checked his watch. Twenty minutes until the meeting with the meeting with the Prime Minister. He was not looking forward to the dull formalities he would have to endure before he could tell his little pawn what he needed him to do. "When on Earth are my sweets going to get here?" he mumbled to himself, frowning.

As if to answer him, a buzzer rang on his desk. He pressed a button, saying "Yes?" into the intercom.

"A man is at the door asking for you," Anthea said. "He says he's brought you sweets, but I thought you?"

"Send him in," Mycroft cut her off.

"Are you sure you-"

Mycroft sighed and Anthea shut up immediately, knowing her boss' limits and that these were sliced in half when he had his cravings.

Mycroft wasn't sure why he asked the man into his office. Anthea could've easily delivered the sweets to him herself. _It would take more time for them to transfer the sweets from his arms to hers. I __**need**__ my sweets, _he justified his actions.

A small creak caught Mycroft's attention and he looked up to see the door opening, the man from earlier appearing slowly, holding a large white box in front of him. Mycroft felt a small smile creep over his lips.

"Hi," the man whispered weakly, turning to close the door.

"Sit, please," Mycroft gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

"I really can't, I've-"

"Sit," Mycroft smiled sharply, cocking his head a bit.

The man seemed to be conflicted, but eventually gave in and took a seat.

The room was silent for a minute. Mycroft eventually asked, "Well?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, right," the man fumbled to push the box onto Mycroft's desk, almost dropping it in the process. "Haha," he laughed weakly, covering his heart, then turned his laugh into a cough when he realised the other man was far from amused that he had almost dropped his sweets...again.

Mycroft pulled the box toward him, opening it up and closing his eyes to inhale the sweets. "Good," he opened his eyes to smile at the other man. After a moment, he looked at the other man expectantly, saying, "Off you go."

The other man furrowed his brows and made no indication to move.

Mycroft pointed a slim finger towards the door, seemingly confusing the other man even more.


	4. Chapter 4

Dapperasf:

Gregory found himself standing up and exiting the room containing the strange pastry-loving man despite the anger he felt at the callous order. There was something in the man's bearing that made him comply despite the way it rankled him.

The strange desire lasted until he was about ten steps out the door. He was furious. How dare that man order him about! Okay, maybe he had deserved a bit of scorn for smushing the man's baked goods earlier but _this_? This was not to stand.

Gregory stomped his way past the bored looking girl with the blackberry and over to the door which he wrenched open as if he were on a drugs bust.

"Okay! I. Am. Done!" Greg's chest heaved as he spat the words into the room and towards the strangely calm man seated behind his damnable desk.

"Oh please, by all means do come in." The man steepled his fingers and leaned forward onto them, cocking one eye-brow up in surprise.

"I have had the worst day! I am unbearably late to work, had to deal with an idiotic robot of a shop girl, ended up paying triple what I was prepared to and that was just for my cake, then I had to buy some pompous sod cakes because of my own ineptness! As if all of this wasn't enough then I have to deal with you, the pompous sod in case you missed that, acting like... well, like a downright pompous sod!"

The man behind the desk stood up and came around to the front. He took his time in answering the charges hurled at him, picking invisible lint off of his sleeve, checking his watch, and yawning poshly.

"This is my problem how?"

There goes that damn eyebrow again. What an ass.

"You...you...AUGH!" Greg felt like throwing the nearest marble bust at the infuriating man standing not four feet in front of him. _How on earth did my day get from hurrying to buy my daughter a cake to __**this**__?_


End file.
